You make my soul full
by sopranish
Summary: After the fall, Dean is relaxing with Castiel. Castiel doesn't seem to know how else to explain how he feels. And Dean decides he doesn't really mind. (PG13 /R)


"I make you soulful? Like, what, I make you sing soulfully or something?" Dean laughs, but his smile is genuine; he has no idea what the guy- a guy now, not an angel- is talking about, but it sounds like the awkwardness on this one won't be his own.

"No, you make my soul full. Like, it's full. And you make it that way." Cas's face is a little screwed in consternation. Dean can see he means what he's saying, just wondering if those are the words. Maybe he was wrong about which way the awkwardness would go.

They're sitting together in Dean's bed, backs against the headboard, just talking. Like they've been doing a lot at night in the week or so since the Angels fell like so many meteors, and he and Sam found Cas huddled in the forest about a mile from the Headquarters. Every night they'd wash up, get into pajamas (or just boxer-briefs and a t-shirt as Dean's in right now; too hot for more even with air conditioning), and just, well, talk, before going to their own beds (except that first night, and that, well, Dean had comforted Sam by hugging him close through less terrible nights).

It's something Dean usually isn't so comfortable with, but with Cas, somehow it's different. Comfortable. Warm in a way he can't admit to himself during the day.

But now there's this.

"When I had my Grace," Castiel continues as Dean realizes he hasn't said a word, "it felt like a reflection, or like a piece that made my own shine brighter. I assumed it was the strength of your soul alone, what I'd touched when I first found you. The Righteous Man who'd withstood so much and always gave so much, who forgave me even when I faltered." Cas looks down and swallows, but Dean doesn't have a chance to interject.

"And when I fell, when my Grace became a Soul, I didn't think I'd be able to feel anything like that. I thought I'd feel nothing more than attachment and all the other emotions I've learned. But it's still there. My soul, I can feel it almost resonate when I'm with you, especially simply like this. Just…full." Cas shrugs.

Dean means to laugh but he chokes. Because here's Cas, completely guilelessly, with no agenda, describing this impossibility. And Dean wants to explain. But he goes on.

"It's ok, Dean, I know you can't say anything in response…" and that's what finally spurs Dean into action.

"No." Dean turns and looks Cas straight in the eye, his whole face determined, shaking his head. "No, you don't understand. I felt it too. Something... I always chalked it up to you being an angel, because you'd 'raised me from perdition,'"Dean imitates the gruffness of Castiel's voice, and tries not to grin at the annoyed look Cas tries to shoot him.

"I figured it was some angel mojo thing I was feeling, like your handprint on my arm, or the carving on mine and Sam's ribs. But man…" Now Dean puts his hand on the back of Castiel's neck when he tries to look away, actually blushing in near shame, making Cas look at him. "Man, I still feel it. And maybe it is in my soul or something. Maybe that's why I could never put words to it. I was afraid of… I don't know, something stupid. But y'know what? Whatever. Because that's how I feel Cas. 'You make my soul full.'" Again Dean imitates Cas's low rumble, a twinkle in his eye, but he sees Castiel's eyes shining with a smile. And damn if that isn't worth saying probably the most chick-flick sentence of his life.

Dean doesn't know if he should go any farther, if he should explain the very human emotions that have always accompanied this connection, this feeling of family-and-more, of wholeness. He doesn't know if Castiel even knows what… romantic tension… is, never mind feels it, and Dean still can't quite admit the words to himself.

"Dean," Cas tries, to make sure, "You don't… you don't have to say that. There's no way you could feel all that when I deserve…" And Dean's grip is hard and his face fierce as he looks at him determinedly once again.

"Dude, no. Listen to me. You did some fucked up things, but you always tried, and you never lost faith in me except when I fucking deserved it, so don't you dare tell me what you deserve." He knows the fire in his eyes must be intense, but he has to explain. "And I don't say shit like this half the time when I do mean it, so I definitely wouldn't if I didn't. So don't tell me what I don't have to say when…. Aw, fuck it."

And with only that much decision, Dean closes the small space between them, and pulls Cas's face to his, lips locked in a kiss tighter and harder than any kiss in his life. Because maybe this will convince him; maybe this is the only way to explain it.

Cas seems to accept this human explanation quickly, his whole body turning into Dean's as he breathes in through his nose and and brings his hands up behind Dean's head, holding him just as fiercely. Hell, maybe he'd understood Dean's complicated feelings more than he thought, otherwise he was sure learning to understand it now.

Their mouths tilt and open, and Cas gasps so gratifyingly when their tongues first connect that Dean nearly moans with it. Their tongues twist and caress as their hands and arms roam to hold the other closer and closer, until they're chest to chest, hearts pounding against the other.

Eventually, Cas pulls back, each kiss only slightly less intense, until he's kissing across Dean's cheek, down his neck. And then he hides his face there, forehead resting on Dean's shoulder as he breathes hard and shaky.

Dean's arms lock, under Cas's own and up his back, holding him close, resting his head on Cas's. Trying to just not freak out. He'd made the decision to go with it, he isn't going to wimp out now. Especially since he doesn't really want to.

Finally Dean realizes Cas is chuckling against his chest. He pulls away just enough to look down and catch Cas's smile from the side.

"What?" Dean asks, only a little bit of worry over what the joke could be.

"Remind me," Castiel answers as he raises his head to peck Dean on the lips once again, electric, "To doubt your sincerity more often." Dean doesn't even know what mix his face shows.

" 'What?' " Cas imitates, far more afraid than Dean could have possibly sounded, and huffs another little laugh.

And then, as he shuts off the lamp, Dean smacks him upside the head because, well, he deserves it.


End file.
